


Things That Were ; Things That Might Be

by Moosen



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel
Genre: F/M, buckynat - Freeform, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:26:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosen/pseuds/Moosen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's so close to him, within an arms reach, but she has never been further away from him. What he could give to hold Natasha in his arms again, to tell her that he loves her and know that she loves him. Instead, he's here enduring a mission with her by her side. Wearing the face of his love, she's a stranger stepping into those shoes.<br/>What he wouldn't give to reverse this.<br/>But she's better off without him in his life.</p><p>[ this is a continuation of my other fic Things That Were ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Lucky. That was the only word that could describe this, the dictionary could not be scoured for anything else. He was a god damn _lucky_ bastard, and he had absolutely no clue on how he got to be this way. There was nothing, not a thing, in his life that should have ever earned him this, but here he was. His gaze trails over the pale back illuminated in the moonlight. Gorgeous. Every last bit of her was absolutely gorgeous. Even in this faded light, he can see the faint marks blending into her skin. The telltale of the life that she's lived, of the life that she lives. He knows that she's riddled with scares, marks so whit and faint to the eye. At glance somebody would never see them all, but he knew each one by heart. So many stories that she could write, she could easily fill several books at least. He knows the stories well, most of them at least. There are always the ones that hold their secrets, stories that will never be penned, whispers that he'll never hear. There's an itch under his skin to ask, to find out.

He doesn't.

Privacy is something he knows needs to be respected, and her autonomy overall deserves to be left alone. If she wants him to know, then she'll tell him. Besides... He's not sure if he wants to even hear those tales, the terrible stories that their marks.

No matter how terrible each story could be, the scars only add to her beauty. They give her character and to him, they prove that she's real; if she didn't have them.... _God._ He'd have to question if she actually existed or not. Any man would kill to lay beside her, to have her heart and her love, but she picked _him_ out of them all. Out of the whole fucking world, she chose him.

Again, the word to describe his life now was _lucky_.

Sleep evades him, as it does these days. He can never get what he needs, the dreams are always the words. Dragging up the past that he can't change, tossing him back into the chaos and the wreckage that he caused with his own hands. The hands that now touched his beloved so tenderly, and with such love that one would never think they were the same that had committed such atrocities.

Her breathing is even as his fingers trace over scars, nimbly leading from one to another with a barely even there touch. He loves when she's asleep, she always looks so peaceful. At ease. Or, as was the case currently, when she was feigning sleep. Oh, he knew better than to assume she was asleep. There were always tells, the slightest but still there. The tension to her limbs, between her shoulder blades; the way she shifts oh just barely under his fingertips.

Nimbly and gently he cards his fingers through red locks to brush them aside, revealing the back of her neck as his lips curl into a smile. God. How could he get to be this lucky? Shifting on the bed, his weight moves to his bionic arm as it sinks into the mattress below. The movement is fluid and there's only a brief second before he's hovering over her. He lingers for just a second, smile twisting up just ever slightly before he's leaning down. He doesn't even breathe as he gently presses his lips against the nape of her neck in the lightest of kisses.

Her shoulders heave just slightly, unnoticeable if you aren't trained, with a soft exhale. His smile grows wider, it's a victory even if it's small. His flesh hand hasn't stopped tracing her scars, following the pattern they create on her back without even needing to look. He has each and every one memorized. Her skin is warm under his touch as he slowly flattens his hand out, palm sliding to her side and smoothing its way down. Another kiss is placed against her skin, slightly lower and just over one of the scars. There's a moment of pause before he's peppering the expanse of her shoulders with light, barely there kisses. The softest press of his lips against her skin.

" _James_ ," the way his name rolls of her tongue has to his favorite damn thing in the world. He would pay any price to hear her saying nothing but that all day long. Just a mantra falling from her lips like a prayer. "Just _what_ do you think you're doing?" The hum of amusement in her tone is clear as her words fill the air around them. A low rumble starts in his chest as he chuckles, placing another kiss right against the curve of her spine.

"Well... We still have time left, before we're needed," the words are practically a purr as he places a series of kisses along her spine, following the curve down. "I figured, what the hell. We might as well make the best of it. I mean, why not?" The sound of her laughter is light and warm and it fills him with such a feeling that he doesn't even realize he's missed.

It's like coming home.

"Make the best of it, hm?" Her voice echoes his words gently with a tease before pressing up, back arching up into him. The movement causes him to withdraw, dropping to the side he wraps an arm around her easily, pulling her with him.

"The best of it. Absolutely. What else would we do? Play yahtzee? Do paperwork?" She's rolling atop of him in a fluid movement, graceful as ever as her arms brace either side of his head, her hair falls in a curtain around them. Her smile at his words is almost enough to stop his damaged heart all over again. How he could be without this, he just prays that he'll never know. He would give up forever to be with her.

"James Barnes, you are in fact, an idiot," she's mumbling the words as she leans down. Her lips are soft against his as she claims him with a kiss. It feels like it's been years since he's had his lips against hers, since he's been able to just kiss her and as he drags her closer he presses back with all the emotions he can't find the words for.

"But I'm _your_ idiot," he mumbles against her lips between kisses. The words are lost to a lovely laugh,.

"Yes. You're _my_ idiot, and don't you ever forget it."

As if he could.

__"_ Barnes."_

There's a moment's pause, his brows furrowing as he pulls back just so to stare up at Natasha.

_"Barnes."_

His mouth opens, but no words escape. Confusion paints his features.

__"_ Winter Soldier, get up."_

The tone of her voice, the bite to her words, snap him out of it. His eyes are open, body moving up in an instant. Reflexes that he's never been able to rid himself of come to life as he finds the blade hidden under pillow heavy in his palm; heart racing in his chest his gaze scans the room only to come to rest on the silhouette in the window. Her face is shrouded by the dark, but the red of her hair illuminated from the filtering light behind her is unmistakable. He can't see her expression, can't read her at all if truth be told. But he can feel her gaze on him as she uncrosses her arms, pushing off the window frame with her hip.

"Took you long enough," there's a hard tease to her tones but it's so cold it leaves him frozen. It's not the tease he's come to expect, come to love. It's unfamiliar. It's distant.

It's not her.

It's not _them._

"The target just hit the rendezvous. We need to get moving." He can't take his eyes off her, can't tear away from what he needs the most but what's just out of his reach. Swallowing thickly, he needs.

The dreams are _always_ the worst. They were always dragging up the past, his past that he can never change.

"Yeah," there's a grimace in his tone as he finally forces his eye line away, shoving the heavy duvet off his lap fully. "'Course 'Tasha, just give me a minute to dress and we'll hit the pavement running." He doesn't even notice his slip up, doesn't take in the slip of her expression as he flicks the lamp next to him on. There are no words said as he moves from the bed, feet carrying him to where the suit lays out. The silence is terse between them, awkward as it hangs in the air. He gets dressed in record time.

She's breezing past him without as a sound as his hands work to get the tie in place, dress tailing behind her as if blown by a gust. The door is open and she's out in the hall by the time he's lacing up his shoes. Somewhere down the hall he can hear her voice, echoing and distant.

" _Are you coming Barnes?_ "

The doors closing hard behind him and he stops just for a moment, gaze finding her retreating figure as she travels further down the hall. She's right here, so close to him, yet she's never been further away.

_Where are you? You're a million miles away....._

The words feel as if they're from a dream at this point. Before now, before _this_ , he never truly understood what she meant when she whispered those words with fingers carding through his hair. What weight those words carried... But now, as he watches her glance back with a gaze so sharp and so gone from him, so distant, the weight is slamming into him like a freight train.

"Course I'm comin', don't worry your pretty little head."

Maybe he's deluding himself, but he swears if he listens closely he can hear the eye roll and maybe, just maybe, a muttered _idiot_. God... It's not the same. It's not. But he can't stop that slight smile from cracking on his features before he's moving. Feet carrying him in a jog to catch up with her. It's not the same, it'll _never_ be the same.

She's already pressed the button by the time his feet are slowing, stopping him next to her before the elevator. He tries to keep his gaze forward but he can't help it from trailing to the side, darting to look at her out the corner of his eye. It's only a millisecond as the elevator dings, doors opening and she's moving out of his sight.

He doesn't need to hear her voice to feel the tone she wants to use, he's following after her with quick steps. Maybe one day he can get through a mission without seeing the ghost of her, of who she used to be. The ghost of them. But today, today isn't that day. The elevator doors slide shut behind them as he presses the button.

He wishes it were.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors slide shut and it's only been a literal second but it feels like an age, an eon. It takes focus to keep his gaze on the metallic doors in front of him, to not let his gaze slip over to her. This is a mission. That's all that it is. Undercover, masquerading as a couple to slip close enough to the target. It needs discretion and the target is always too public. Too hard to just nab or take out if need be. It needs finesse. And that's why SHIELD called him.

It's also why they called her.

His gaze tracks over the elevator door to catch the skewered image of her reflection in it. Had he known she was also hired onto this before he'd agreed to take this on... Well then maybe he would have stayed away, or at least, found a way to keep his distance. Her stature is stiff in the door, still and ready to strike at any time if need be.

it's funny to him, how tense the air between them right now is. It's like a replay of a memory that he knows that she doesn't have. A fight, a long time ago. A small lovers spat in the hotel room and her stalking off to the elevator.

_Of course he hadn't let her just go, he chased after her immediately and dove in before the doors shut. Her blue eyes screamed murder at him when she'd turned her gaze to him and he should have known better than to just open his stupid mouth then and there._

_But he never claimed to be that smart of a man._

_"Nat," there had been a rough edge to his tone as he spoke. "I don't get why you're getting so worked up over this. it's nothing worse than anything I've done before. Are you just mad because you can't come with me?" Her gaze was the sharpest as it turned towards him and god, that look right there was why men feared the Black Widow._

_"You don't understand why I'm getting worked up over this James?" Her words hold a harsh tone and she steps towards him. "Perhaps it's the fact that barely a week ago I saw you with a gaping hole in your chest. Or maybe it's the fact that you're underground and supposed to be dead right now." With every word she's stepping towards him, crowding him against the wall of the elevator.  "Maybe it's the fact that we're partners and you accepted Fury's offer for a solo mission, one that might put you right back in the ground because you are not ready to be in the field yet and you **know this.** " Her finger jabs against his chest as her other hand snaps out to press the emergency stop._

_"Are you going to make me see you come back in a casket, or are you going to be a sensible adult instead of a reckless kid and not take this suicide mission." His throat is tight as he swallows, gaze drawn down to hers. Her blue eyes are steely as she keeps her gaze locked on him, she's not going to budge an inch._

_"Nat--"_

_"James." She doesn't even let him finish her damn name before she's cutting his words off. He blinks at her and stays utterly still. it only lingers for a moment before his hands are snapping up to cup her face and he's crashing their lips together. She doesn't miss a beat, hands coming up to grip his shoulders as she returns the kiss, lips moving against his. Bucky is moving forward, pressing against her as his bionic hand drops to wrap around her waist. With a tight grip he's hefting her up and her legs are going around his hips in a moment. With a quick turn, he changes their positions so it's her with her back against the wall instead._

_The kiss doesn't break._

_Her hands slide around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair and her teeth sink into his lower lip. A soft sigh escapes him as he presses her closer to the wall. It's only then that he breaks the kiss to start peppering smaller ones across her jaw. It's always a marvel to him how soft she is under his touch._

_"M'sorry," he breathes out as the kisses continue, following the bone before he's nudging her chin with his nose to start a fresh trail down her neck. A soft sound escapes her._

_"I know, Barnes"_

"--Barnes."

His train of thought is interrupted as her voice cuts the air once more. The tension is only rising, never deflating. Quickly, he turns his head to look at her. Brown eyes meeting irritated blue.

"Sorry?" He offers and it doesn't do a damn thing to pacify her really. Her eyes roll before darting to the elevator count down.

"Are you sure you've got your head in this? You can't stop daydreaming and if this goes south--"

"It won't. Trust me Nat, I know how important this guy is to SHIELD and how big of a threat he is. I might get lost in my thoughts but I will not let him get away. And I know that you wouldn't let him get away either." He doesn't look away, doesn't shy away or back down. There's a flash in her eyes and he _swears_ that its recognition, familiarity.

But that's a desperate mans wishing isn't it? As soon as it's there, it's gone again. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors ding as they slide open revealing the banquet hall. Her gaze lingers on him for a moment before darting to the people.

"Well, we better get started." She holds her hand out for him to take and that is enough to get his heart pounding. Swallowing, he offers a smile before taking her hand in his and wrapping an arm around her.

"I suppose we best," he counters as he leads her out of the elevator and into the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

She slips into it with such an ease, the smile on her face looks genuine and she curls around his arm up to him. Her body is warm next to his and it sends chills down his spine. He knows he's staring, looking at how her red locks frame her face and how just damn gorgeous she looks. He knows that he really can't stop staring at her smile. He hasn't seen that since....

"Are you alright _darling_?" There's a warning in the word as her eyes flash to his. Swallowing he smiles warmly at her as they step past another couple.

"Of course I am. I'm just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a beautiful woman on my arm." There's a slight tease in his tone and he just hopes that he's covering it enough. One of her brows arches and she watches him for just a moment, a flash of _something_ in her eyes before she's scrunching her nose up with another smile.

"Oh you are such a sweet talker."

At least she can't rebuke him right now, it'd run the risk of blowing their cover.

His heart soars at the words, at the warm tone of her voice and _God..._ He knows better. He knows this is an act. None of this is real but he doesn't care. He glances away from her to get his thoughts in order. Gaze searching the crowd for their target because that's at least _something_ that he can focus on. Something that isn't her.

"There." Her voice comes right at his ear, soft and low and it sends a shiver right through him. Her hand comes to his jaw, redirecting his head just so. The man is in his sight immediately and he can't stop thinking about the feel of her lips against his cheek. She's so soft against his scratching stubble. Their target is with such an elegant looking blonde woman, they're moving across the floor quite gracefully. It would be mesmerizing if he were anybody else, it clearly was mesmerizing to some. There were a few other dancers on the floor, twirling and moving with them. But none of them held the poise or the beauty as that couple.

"Would you care for a dance?" He offers, smile on his face that he just prays doesn't betray the inner turmoil that he's feeling right now. She doesn't miss a beat. She takes his arm and all but seems to drag him to the dance floor. The small crowd that had formed to watch and whisper about their target didn't even pause to look at them, didn't even think to look at them.

Not until they took their first step at least.

His bionic hand rests on her back, just below her shoulder while his flesh hand finds her hip. She's warm under his touch. There's barely a breath before she's stepping into his space, body so close yet not flush against him. He knows that while he's supposed to lead, it really will be her taking point.

It always is after all.

They stay there for a moment, still and unnoticed. The music has a lull, slowing as the current song comes to an end. He doesn't notice how the other couples move, how the crowd gives a soft applause to their target and his date. All he can focus on is the beat, beat, beat of his hammering heart in his chest. All he can focus on is her controlled breaths, slow and deliberate. Not a thing is off with her, there are no nerves. But then again, would he expect anything else?

The music starts and they step with it. It's nothing new to either of them. Dance is good to train with, it creates fluid movement and gracefulness that any spy needs. Dance also creates an intimate air. His hand on her hip tightens its grip just slightly, scrunching the soft fabric of her dress underneath it. It swirls around her as she steps, as they move, flowing in a trail behind with the quick steps. He can feel the eyes on them, knows that they've stolen the show.

His hand against her back presses her closer, her body flush against his and he can't take his gaze off hers. Blue meets brown and there's no hostility in them, just focus. He can't help the way that his lips quirk up into that loving smile, that smile he's been hiding ever since....

God... he's missed this.

They're fluid together, never missing a beat even when the tempo changes. There's a lull when the music changes, classical switching to something more.... upbeat as he spins her away from him. His left hand trails down her arm to grasp her fingers before she can escape his reach. The air between them shifts as their gazes meet.

With a tug of his wrist she effortlessly spins back to him. Her hand finds his shoulder, leg stepping just past his to press herself flush against him. His hand never leaves her, other arm winding around her to press against her back once more. In a flash they're moving once more.

He presses forward, walking her backwards to dip in her in time with the music. Her hair fans out behind her in a curtain as she hooks a leg up around his hip. They linger for just a moment before he's pulling her up. Each step is effortlessly for both of them, as if they'd done this a hundred times again. Each twist of the hip, each turn of the foot. It's practiced from a time long ago.

She spins out of his reach, their fingers brushing as his grip is lost. They pause, just a second before looking to each other. The connection is electric as she sways her hips, stepping towards him and he towards her with such intent. They meet in the middle, her turning away and him grabbing her wrist to pull her back. It feels impossibly right as he raises her arm, pulling her close to dip her once more as her leg winds around his waist. He doesn't waste a second. He's pulling her up and stepping. Moving in a way that has the fabric swaying around them and the crowd gaping.

He hardly notices them. All he can notice is her and god, the way that she seems to be enjoying this.

Spinning as she drops her leg, she presses her back flush against him, hips moving in a way that shoots right through him. Her feet move beautifully around his before she's dropping low, leg extending with her twirl to circle around behind her. Their movements are slow as her eyes never leave his. Rising, her hand slides up and over his chest. They move in sync. Each step, each sashay. All of it. They don't miss a beat as he spins her, as he dips her, as he follows her lead and she follows his.

His heart is racing as he dips her once more, leaning over her as the music finally comes to an end. There's no sound in the room, none that he can hear at least. Other than their breathing and the hammering of his heart. He's impossibly close to her, pressed flush and his lips are just an inch away from hers. She's all he can focus on. The only thing he can feel is the warm from her body seeping into his, the scent of her amber perfume that he's always loved. Neither of them blink, neither of them swallow.

It's as if they're both daring the other to move first.

It's magnetic, the pull he feels between them. The way he finds himself inching just slightly closer to her mouth. God he aches to close the distance between their lips. He aches to the deepest part of him to kiss her, to feel how soft she is once more. He needs it, he starves for it.

For her.

"---Natasha," he breathes her name out and it's a soft sound. A sound just for her. He's about to close the distance but the spell is broken. That something flashes in her eyes once more and she's pressing back against him to straighten them out. She smiles at him but it looks off, feels off in such a miniscule way.

"That was a lovely dance," Her voice comes out as a breath. "Now how about we purchase a couple of those five hundred dollar plates of dinner. After all, we are here to be charitable, darling." She doesn't leave space for him to comment before she's sashaying away towards the table that has their alias on it.


End file.
